


Move Together

by nothinbuttherain



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Christmas fic, F/M, Fluff, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:20:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothinbuttherain/pseuds/nothinbuttherain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 2x16, a few months after what happened at Mount Weather, the Ark is starting to rebuild and grow on Earth. Taking a break from her demanding duties and responsibilities Abby is coaxed into following a small trail of lanterns into the forest around Camp Jaha  at the end of which she finds Marcus waiting for her with a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Move Together

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm fairly sure that what I'm writing here is unrealistic in the way that it doesn't line up with the actual seasons that are on the show (not by a long shot) but it's Christmas and I wanted something vaguely Christmas themed so we're just going to have to ignore that unfortunate and inconvenient fact for the sake of festive fluff.

Move Together 

Dragging her fingers through her hair she tries to force her eyes to focus on the small vials and bottles before her that she’s trying to catalogue to get an idea of the medicine that they still have available to them. Her brain doesn’t appear to be in the mood to co-operate with this task however and keeps drifting and causing her vision to blur every time she tries to read one of the tiny, cramped names squeezed onto the labels.  

Sighing and bracing herself over the table, hands splayed out to either side she tries taking several deep breaths in an attempt to centre herself, her fingertips massaging her temples. When, after several minutes of this she opens her eyes, releasing her breath, ready for a fresh attempt and realises that she’s still completely unable to focus she decides that doing this after her shift today might not have been one of her better ideas. But there just aren’t enough hours in the day to do everything she needs to do and...

Breaking off her train of thought before it runs away with her and becomes increasingly frantic she takes a step away from the table and casts her gaze around the room until it finds a clock. With a start she realises she’s been here for nearly nine solid hours and, despite the fact that she still definitely doesn’t have enough hours in the day, she knows that at least a few of those hours need to be set aside for sleeping or she won’t be doing anyone any good, least of all herself.

Still, in spite of this rational thought process, something more than a desire to get through her never ending list of tasks and responsibilities holds her in the small medical station longer than she should linger. The idea of leaving and returning to her hollow, empty sleeping quarters, curling up on the lumpy cot that’s been allocated to her and trying to sink into sleep is not one that she finds at all appealing and the mere thought of what awaits her beyond the station is nearly enough to make her sink back onto the dented little stool that’s been her companion for the last few hours sorting through her files and vials.

Sleep hasn’t been coming easily to her since they returned from Mount Weather and when it has it hasn’t exactly been the most restful that she’s ever had, to put it mildly. Her pulling increasingly longer shifts in medical as she’s healed, at least on the surface, has been due not only to the dramatic influx of patients after the horrors they suffered in Mount Weather, not to mention the colder weather they’ve been experiencing ushering in a spate of colds and flus, but to her desire to keep herself busy and stop herself dwelling on her own traumatic experiences has seen her pushing herself to breaking point and often beyond.

This works relatively well, in the sense that it does indeed keep her mind so occupied that it never has a chance to linger very long on what’s happened to her in the past few months. It might not be the healthiest coping mechanism, she knows, but it’s the only one she has right now. There’s too much going on and too much weighing on her mind and she knows if she even lets a little of it in it will overwhelm her completely and her people need her more than she needs to sit down and have a good talk with herself so it can wait.

Unfortunately, her supposedly resting subconscious seems to go out of its way each and every night to cast up the myriad of things that her waking mind refuses to consider. Each night without fail some nightmare or other wakes her at least once, either forcing her to confront generally twisted and garbled versions of her ordeal in Mount Weather or else presenting her with various horrific visions detailing the many ways that Clarke could come to harm as she still, after all this time, hasn’t come back to them yet.

The sensation of thin, scratching sheets, damp with sweat and tangled by her convulsions constricting themselves around her body and squeezing like the restraints they had applied to hold her down in Mount Weather assails her without warning, causing bile to spike up at the back of her throat and an image of her fear shrouded in darkness, reaching out to drag her back into the pain and torments she had endured, like withered hands clawing at her insides. Sweat drenches her skin. Her breath comes in short, painful tugs and panic swells within her chest.

A moment later she finds herself gripping tightly onto the bench in front of her, her whole body shaking, her eyes shut tight as she tries to regain her composure. It takes a few moments for her to return to her surroundings at which point she realises that she needs a break but that she can’t go back to her empty sleeping quarters, not yet, not after that.

Instead she resolves to walk through the camp a little bit to see if that will help clear her head before she inevitably has to turn in for the night. The fallen section of the Ark is quiet as she pads noiselessly through it. Most people are outside, enjoying the fresh air and the last few hours of light before the sun sets and closes off the day.

Unbidden, her thoughts continue to follow the dark path she had inadvertently sent her down and by the time she’s reaching the doors that lead back outside, which her feet carry her to on instinct, knowing the way on their own by now, her head is so full with thoughts of the injuries sustained at Mount Weather along with Clarke’s continued absence and stubborn silence, the many injuries, mental and physical, she’s been dealing with in medical not to mention her own recovery on top of trying to govern the Ark in her role as Chancellor and the greater number of problems than usual that have been heaped onto her plate because of the rapidly descending Winter.

Pausing a moment, coming back to herself somewhat, she decides to check in with Jackson in the opposite wing of medical where their patients are stationed to check that he can cope on the night shift without her before she simply abandons him.  

As she changes her path her thoughts lighten and soften somewhat as they alter to focus not on the many problems she’s been experiencing over the past few months but to Marcus who’s supported her through all of it to the extent that she’s not sure what she would have done without him there to help her.

The two of them have become closer than they can remember them being, even before Jake’s death, in the past few months and she’s come to trust and rely on him more than anyone else in camp. He’s been a constant rock for her and an irreplaceable right hand in governing the Ark, assisting and supporting her leadership and while they still see things in very different ways and argue on the best course of action almost everywhere, the compromises that they reach, while leaving both of them a little disgruntled, seem to be best for everyone else.

They’ve finally found a comfortable harmony in their working relationship and the more personal intimacy that’s blossomed between them since has been greatly benefitted by that fact. While she’s appreciated his help in his capacity as, she supposes, her vice chancellor, the more personal aspect of their relationship that’s developed is what she’s come to depend on more.

Her recovery after her ordeal in Mount Weather, both physical and mental, was long and difficult. There are still deep scars on her legs that she doesn’t think will ever heal, a constant, tangible reminder to go hand in hand with the psychological trauma she thinks will last even longer.

For the first few weeks when she was utterly bed-bound and going out of her mind he was a constant source of comfort and solace and helped her get through things she’s not sure now, looking back, that she could have done on her own. He kept her company and kept her calm, there to reassure her that she was safe now, that it was all over, those first few nights where she could barely close her eyes without breaking out into a cold, terror fuelled sweat.

Once Clarke’s disappearance and prolonged absence had been added on top of her recovery after Mount Weather she had needed him more than she ever had and he had been there, solidly and dependably there every time she had turned to him. A soft smile touches her lips at that thought and at the memories that flutter gently to the forefront of her mind detailing the way he had... _comforted_ her, one particularly cold, brutal night they had spent alone together.

_Their hands tug impatiently at clothes, fingers scrabbling over loose buttons and trailing threads. Her skin finds his at the same time she feels her back jar against the cold council table behind her, jolting them together as she irritably tugs his t-shirt up over his head and discards it somewhere on the floor behind them, neither of them pausing to watch it fall._

_With a gentleness that surprises her somewhat in the midst of the frenzied urgency that seems to be fuelling this desire, he slides his hands under her and lifts her up and sets her down on the table. The metal is freezing on her bare skin but after a fleeting gasp of protest she reaches out and tugs him in to her, his lips meeting hers with the force of a furious tide crashing against a pebbled beach._

_It feels wonderful not to think and just to feel after so long being numbed to the world by her injuries and her worries over their people and her daughter. To allow herself to be lost, even if it’s only temporary, to allow herself to let him take over, to take her in his arms and do what he wants is the greatest gift he could have given her._

_Closing her eyes she buries her face in the crook of his neck and pulls him in closer, biting her lip to stifle her gasp as he slides into her, making her arch her back and press in against him. Breathing hard the pair of them fall into a rhythm with one another, guiding one another’s touches and kisses to teach them what feels good and learn in turn._

_Heat rises between them and she shivers faintly as his fingernails bite into the soft skin of her thighs, pulling her closer and she takes this as a cue to let her hands drag down the length of his spine, her nails leaving long red tracks down his back and her teeth nip lightly at his neck, drawing a low snarl from him, causing him to press her harder into the table._

_Letting her head tilt back to expose the thin column of her throat to allow him better access as he trails kisses along her jaw and then down to her neck she lets herself moan loudly in his ear as the sense of release he’s been pushing her towards finally consumes her senses, not caring who might hear them or interrupt them, not caring about anything but the feeling of his body against hers._

_Panting hard she lets her arms slide, slow and leaden as a happy exhaustion descends over her body, from his neck and then shifts herself slightly to allow her to hop down from the council table and hastily return her clothes to their rightful places._

_A strange, almost awkward tension grips them as the extent of the intimacy between them, which had spilled out and overcome both of them before they had quite grasped what was happening, strikes them in full for the first time._

_Brushing back her dishevelled hair she murmurs a small ‘thanks’ to him then steals out of the room before either of them can quite get their bearings. She needed the release and she needed the human contact, to get lost in someone else’s arms and not feel numb or scared or terrified for even a little while and she owed him more for that than disappearing on him._

She had felt bad the next day and sought him out, tying things up properly with him, trying to explain herself. She never intended for them to be anything more than a one night release that she had needed in the heat of the moment and she wanted to make that clear to him. She had tried. And he had accepted without protest or question.

The fact that it hadn’t stuck hadn’t been anyone’s fault but her own. Her stress levels had sky rocketed and a few days later they had tumbled into bed once again. It had become something of a routine after that, a way for them both to deal with their situation, with the stress of their positions, and, increasingly, another way for them to connect with one another.  

After that first time however, she had found herself staying with him for longer and longer each night. Letting herself indulge in these moments with him longer and longer each time, curling up with him, dragging out the time before she had to return to their harsh reality and deal with the weight of the world pressing down on top of her shoulders again.

Giving herself a little shake to try and clear these thoughts from her head as she enters the medical wing she casts around looking for Jackson and spots him standing with a patient adjusting the IV drip and taking a few notes on the makeshift charts they’ve rigged up to try and help organise them and their volunteer helpers who have joined them over the last few weeks to help deal with the rising demand for medical facilities.

Wandering over to him she places a gentle hand on his arm to attract his attention and, when he’s looked up and given her a small smile and nod in greeting she says, her voice startlingly hoarse after not using it so long, “Can you handle things here on your own for the night shift?”

Jackson studies her for a few minutes before he answers her, concern in his eyes, “We’ll be fine, Abby, you go and relax for a little while, okay?”

Smiling wanly at this she nods and briefly grips his hand before she sets off in search of the front doors. Stepping outside at last, gratitude for the cool air that envelopes her coursing through her body she takes a moment or two to close her eyes and breathe deeply.

There’s something freeing about the taste of the fresh air on her tongue after so long inside and the light breeze that lifts the edges of her hair makes her smile even more in spite of the many worries that plague her. The sun that lingers, a flat orange disc on the horizon, just beginning to dip beneath it, casts a soft, still warm light onto her skin and seems to release some hidden reserve of strength and energy.

If she could, she would work and live out here far more than she does. Since they’ve come down she’s found herself with a hunger to explore their new world that she’s seen so little of and understands even less about. She dislikes being shut up in the Ark all the time, she’s spent her whole life like that and what was once routine and day to day living now suddenly feels constricting and oppressive, her newfound freedom unlocking a new sense of claustrophobia in the low, dark, shallow, warren-like halls of the Ark.

Deciding, more certainly now than she has done before, she reflects that she does want to spend more time outside and as such she should. The forest that surrounds them is lush and dense and holds a certain fascination for her. She knows that danger can lurk in its shadowed depths, they all know that too well, but the place still holds a lingering attraction for her, a certain pull to escape the confines of camp and see more of the world they now live in.

Setting aside a little time each day to go walking through it, not too far, she thinks she would enjoy. If she could manage to convince Marcus that it was worth the risk to her safety and security, something he’s been reminding her of almost daily since they returned to Camp Jaha after their ordeal in Mount Weather.

  They had argued for three straight days until everyone, including themselves, was entirely sick of the subject, on whether or not she should have personal guards assigned to her. He wanted to place a contingent of no less than four people around her at all times to keep her safe.

 She had disliked the idea on principle, not wanting to find herself tripping over bodies every time she wanted to go anywhere or do anything, for a start it wouldn’t be practical in medical or if there was some emergency in camp that required her immediate attention. Then there had been the fact of marking her out as more important than everyone else in camp, they had few enough members of the guard that four of them set to watching her day in and day out would be missed on patrols and other duties.

In the end she had finally managed to wear Marcus down and put him off the idea. Though he seemed to have silently appointed himself as her own personal guard, as well as her vice chancellor since he’s barely left her side for any great length of time in the past few months. That she realised she didn’t actually mind too much. His presence by her side reassured her once she started getting back to her duties following her recovery in medical, he made her feel safe, and still does, which she’s come to recognise as a precious thing given their current circumstances and everything that’s happened to them since they landed on Earth.

Despite their many arguments over her safety, which had several times resulted in her telling him he was being paranoid and over-protective, complaints which he had largely brushed off and ignored, she can’t really blame him being so conscious about this, not after the way they camp was raided the night they were dragged off to Mount Weather.

She knows that a part of him, wrongfully, blames himself for what happened, that he thinks if he had had more guards on the night watch or if he had stressed the importance of it more or if he had spent more time on their defences it might not have happened and she, along with so many others, might not have had to endure what they did at the hands of the Mountain Men.

Taking a deep breath she closes her eyes and counts slowly down from five in her head before she manages to settle herself out from the sudden wave of nausea that gripped her at the memory. A last shiver runs through her as she sternly tells herself not to think of that.

Raising her head slightly she begins to march purposefully off in a seemingly set direction that actually has no basis whatsoever, she just doesn’t want to stand still dwelling on old horrors. Deciding that she doesn’t want to be alone in her sleeping quarters with no distractions and as such that she could use a little company, now and later, if he’s willing, she decides to try and find Marcus, wherever he’s gone and wanders aimlessly casting around for him or, at the very least, someone who can point her in his direction.

As she nears the edge of camp where the fence is almost completely cut away to make room for their vegetable gardens she pauses, glancing around her, taking stock of the rest of the camp sprawled out behind her before turning and gazing out at the dark forest beyond. With a start, her eyes light upon a small, circular yellow light bobbing by the fringes of the nearest trees.

Curiosity getting the better of her, with another hasty glance at her surroundings, she ducks out and pads quietly towards it, still a little cautious; given everything that’s happened to them since they landed it would have been incredible if she wasn’t, but there’s something about it that draws her towards it, almost instinctively.

Once she’s nearer she realises that the light isn’t as disembodied as she’d thought but is actually a small flame nestled inside an enclosed lantern, hung from one of the thick branches protruding from the tree. The glass that encloses it is cool to the touch when she accidentally brushes her fingers over it as she examines it more closely and in doing so, dislodges a thin slip of paper.

Stooping she snatches it up off of the leaf-strewn ground and holds it up to the lantern’s flickering light to read it. On it, she finds written, in what looks strangely like Marcus’ neat handwriting, a single word, _Abby_. Nothing more and nothing less than that and though a faint tingle trickles up along her spine she still doesn’t exactly know what this means.

Looking up in bemusement her eye is caught again by the sight of another lantern, as far as she can see from this distance, identical to the one she’s standing in front of right now. Even more confused but this time finding it tinged with a little bit of intrigue she glances around her, wondering if she’ll at last find Marcus watching her in amusement and shuffling over to explain himself but he’s nowhere to be scene.

Faint flutterings of excitement tickling her stomach now, though she can hardly explain them to herself she steps slowly forwards to examine the second lantern. As she had guessed earlier it is the same as the first one she had seen from the edges of camp the only difference being that this one doesn’t have any kind of note, vague and largely indecipherable or otherwise attached to it.

Glancing up, suddenly becoming aware of her surroundings once more as she catches a flicker of shifting darkness to her left and straightens, peering into it, trrying to determine its source, her body tensing ever so slightly, even though she knows that, logically, she’s too close to camp for anyone to threaten her.

As her eyes adjust to the change between the lantern’s bright, friendly warm glow and the shadowed black between some of the closer trees however, her chest expands once more, released from the tight bands of tension that had been encircling it as she recognises the two people standing in the shade of a tall pine as Raven and Bellamy and realises a moment later that they’re huddled together both very definitely watching her.

She supposes that she must make for a fairly unusual side, padding around the darkening trees alone examining odd balls of light cropping up every few feet but on closer inspection she notices something else in Raven’s expression that she hadn’t seen when she had first looked over at her, something playful and mischievous and strangely, almost victorious.

Raising an eyebrow in response to this she jerks her head questioningly in Raven’s direction, hoping that she’ll deign to give her some answers, not sure why she should know anymore about the odd lantern trail than she does but she’s curious enough to risk trying, deciding that the worst outcome is a shrug.

To her slight surprise however, Raven’s smile broadens still further and she nudges Bellamy, apparently hard given his reproving wince, in the ribs in what’s clearly triumph. Directing her attention at Abby once more she winks in an over-exaggerated fashion and then jerks her head deeper into the forest, along the path.

Gazing at Raven in blank confusion for a moment she tentatively turns head to stare in the direction she’s oh so subtly trying to indicate and sees with a small start that there’s another little lantern bobbing ahead of her a little ways away from where she’s standing now.

 Eyes widening slightly at the sight she looks first at the lantern by her elbow, then at the first one she had seen and examined, the note that had been attached to which she still has clutched tightly in her hand. Finally she looks up at Raven again, an enquiring look on her face, to which the other replies with another smile and an encouraging nod.

Still a little bemused by the whole situation a sense of strange reckless abandon that seems almost like freedom after the faint ebb and flow of fear that’s been wearing her down steadily since their return from Mount Weather, she decides to do what Raven wants and heads off following the strange lanterns that, now she’s actively looking for them, follow a very clear trail through the steadily darkening forest, the light from the slowly setting sun blaring between the trees as it sinks into the horizon.

As she walks she draws her jacket a little tighter around her, wishing she’d paused to put something a little heavier on before seeking to escape the confines of the Ark. While claustrophobic and increasingly oppressive, especially after Mount Weather, it is at least warm. The weather around them has been steadily declining over the last few months, they’re rapidly moving into another cold snap as Winter approaches and while the curious part of her is keen to experience more of seasons she’s only ever obliquely read about, the pragmatic part of her reminds her of the difficulties the winter weather is likely to bring their people.

One of the ways that life on the Ark was easier than it is down here is the consistent temperature which makes it so much easier to keep people healthy and fed, since food could be grown and harvested all year round without any consideration for external circumstances like weather because each of those factors could be carefully controlled. On a more personal level, she had enjoyed the heat of the Ark, she’s never liked being cold and she isn’t looking forward to trying to find inventive ways of keeping warm as winter rolls over them...Though she could be persuaded if sharing body heat with Marcus was one of those ways, she supposes with a small smirk.

Despite that though, she still wouldn’t trade this new world they’ve landed in for a return to the harsh, barren existence in space she’s lived her whole life with. Even though they’d largely faced nothing but trouble since landing, a mild way of putting their struggles, she knows, she finds that she likes Earth. She feels more alive down here, more alive than she’s felt since Jake’s death in fact. She likes the fresh air, the broad, seemingly expansive and seemingly endless skies.

There’s room to grow down here, room to _breathe_ once they recover from what they’ve been through but she tries not to limit their time down here to a bad beginning. The scars on her legs tingle slightly, as though trying to starkly remind her of the reality of the agonies they’ve suffered through but she tries to stifle those thoughts. Things have been so much better these last few months, they’ve begun to settle, to heal, to build a new life for themselves. She has hope that things will continue to improve, that they might be able to find some lasting happiness down here. And so she hopes; she has to.

The thought of building a new home and a new life down here, completely away from the Ark and everything she knew there, while being the chance that she hopes for down here, unsettles her in a small way that she finds difficult to shake off. She knows it’s the right thing to do, the right thing to hope for but she can’t help the faint waves of guilt that come creeping in on the clarity of her hope, like blank ink dropped into water, fanning out until it darkens every inch of a once certain mind.

Her life on the Ark was built around her work both as chief of medical and her work on the council but also around her family, they were the rock that supported her through everything, the pillar that kept her standing on her worst days and now....

Now Clarke is missing, she has no idea when she’ll return, if she’ll return, if she _can_ or if she’s died alone and friendless in the wildernesses. She staggers, unable to bear the thought and ducks to avoid some low hanging branches that take a few swipes at her cheeks in the wind and she tries not to think of that, tries not to consider it because she knows she can’t take it if she loses Clarke too.

And Jake. Jake who was her partner, her love, the man she married, the man she thought to spend the rest of her life with, wherever they were to spend it is gone. It’s been a year, more than a year now since she lost him but still, still she looks for him sometimes, still she expects to hear his laugh at certain jokes that no-one else could ever laugh at but that she knows he would.

As surely as she knows that he would laugh there, she knows that he would want her to be happy, that he would want her to be okay want her to move on, the thought feels strange in her head, the idea of it so alien, so unthinkable just a few short months ago, but still, still a part of her argues that it’s wrong, that it’s too soon, that it will always be too soon to ever be with anyone else, to ever want to be with anyone else.

But with Marcus these last few months, that’s what she’s wanted to do, she’s wanted to be with him, to be with him all  the time, to be with him more than she is now. The time they spend together is undoubtedly her happiest in camp now and she doesn’t know how she would have gotten this far without him by her side, a place that it’s increasingly feeling that he belongs.

Confused, conflicted emotions well up inside her and threaten to overwhelm her. She cares about Marcus and she knows that he cares about her, that he would do anything to protect her, to keep her safe, to keep her happy, that he respects her boundaries and her relationship with Jake. No-one knows better than Marcus how close they were, no-one knows like him just what she lost when she lost Jake and she knows that he’ll never push past those boundaries, that he’ll never try and make her commit to anything that she’s not ready for.

In so many ways he’s perfect for her. After everything that they’ve been through ,everything that they’ve been through together she doesn’t feel as though she knows anyone as well as she knows him now and she’s sure he feels the same. What they’ve seen, what they’ve survived, no-one else could understand quite the way they do both of them shattered and pushed to the point that the broken edges of their selves cohere where they would only cut another person.

And she wants this, with him, she realises, she wants everything that she had with Jake, she wants everything that he makes her feel, happy and safe and _alive_ after spending so long in numb defiance of the world around her. But she doesn’t know how to tell him that, how to take the next steps with them, or if she’s ready for those steps now that she feels so uncertain about what she wants, about what she’s supposed to want after losing Jake.

But with Marcus...She’s spent so long hoping for their people, hoping for a way to save them from the dying Ark, hoping for a way to safeguard her daughter’s future, to find a place where she can grow old in peace. But with Marcus she realises that she’s found something to hope for for herself. He’s a new chance for her, a new chance to be happy, to be whole, to be at peace and she wants that, she wants that more than she wants almost anything else in this world.

After a few more minutes of walking and shivering, following the little lanterns that are bobbing encouragingly ahead of her every few feet she finally finds herself struggling up a steep incline. At the top it levels off into a large, sheltered clearing set on a rise that overlooks Camp Jaha in the near distance, lights sparkling like a tiny city of stars in front of her. Settled in the middle of the small clearing, perched on some blankets with several boxes arrayed out before him, glancing out at the spectacular view is Marcus.

Smiling faintly she pads towards him as quietly as she can and taps him gently on the shoulder which makes him jump violently, startling him out of his reverie. Finding a faint laughing bubbling up through her chest as he leaps up she informs him mercilessly, “You deserve that after the merry dance you led me through that forest just now.”

Smiling now that his shock has subsided he lightly taps her on the nose in punishment for her giving him a fright then says quietly that, “I thought you’d like it.” His tone so playful he’s more telling her that he thinks she did than trying to work out if she was actually frustrated by his ploy to lure her out here.

Smiling in return she nods and moves in a little closer to him, her body instinctively seeking his warmth and contact. He closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her in close to him, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head as he lets her snuggle in to him, closing her eyes and resting her head on his chest, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day sweeping over her now that she can allow herself to be tired and to be a little less than strong, if only for a moment with him.

As he wraps around her she feels him tense in sudden consternation and she glances up in bemusement, still keeping herself firmly pressed up against him, to raise a questioning eyebrow looking for an explanation for this.

“You’re freezing.” He just says simply, the words half concerned and half exasperated, clearly indignant that she came wandering through the woods to find him with only a few thin layers on for warmth, “Come here.” He tugs his jacket out and wraps it around both of them, making her giggle as she’s squished in even more tightly against his body.

“Marcus!” She squeals in protest, trying to extract one of her arms where it’s sandwiched between them so she can whack him lightly in reproach, “I can’t breathe.”

 Chuckling deep in his chest so that the feeling vibrates through her, he releases her from his jacket then puts an arm around her shoulders and guides her back towards the blankets he has spread out on a thick layer on the ground and ushers her down on to them.

Once he’s sat himself down beside her he tugs up a few blankets and wraps them tightly around the two of them, whereupon she scoots in even closer to him, seeking the warmth that always seems to radiate from his body and ends up wrapping her arms around his torso beneath the blankets, her head resting gently on his shoulder, enjoying the quiet, unquestioning companionship, knowing that she doesn’t have to explain herself or her exhaustion to him, that she can just come undone and trust that he won’t let her unravel too much.

After a little while, when she’s fairly sure that she can feel the tips of her fingers again, she shifts slightly beside him, adjusting her position to enable her to peer up at him, feeling his body move with hers as she does so, his arm raising slightly to let her move more easily, glancing down at her even as she glances up at him.

“What is all of this?” She asks, trying to gesture around them at the blankets and the clearing and the lanterns and though her hands are impeded by the blankets and all she really succeeds in doing is dislodging several of the blankets.

Once he’s scooped them up and returned them to their proper place around her shoulders he answers her softly, “I thought it would do you some good.” He explains, “To get you out of camp for a little while, get you away from everything that’s been going on there, you’ve been working too hard lately.” He tells her quietly, giving her a gentle squeeze, “A little bit of quiet alone time, you know...I thought you needed it.”

Smiling she nuzzles in gently against him, her forehead pressed to his, her arms still wrapped lightly about his chest, “Thank you.” She murmurs softly to him and she feels him give her another gentle squeeze in response to this.

Shifting herself once more she rests her head on his shoulder again, feeling her body moving gently up and down in time with his rhythmic breathing. Words start falling from her lips without her really thinking about it, “I don’t...I don’t know what I would have done without you these last few months, Marcus, I really don’t.”

In answer he only cradles her closer to him, his hand rubbing gently up and down her back as she nuzzles into him, wanting to feel nearer to him, wanting to lose herself in this moment with him which he was completely right in saying that she needed this, that she needed some time to herself, time with him, time where she could just let go and forget what was going on, what’s been tearing her apart these past few months.

They sit side by side, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm around her, blankets draped over both of them, their size and the many patches and frays in them meaning that they have to huddle closely together for them to be of any use in keeping them warm. But despite the cold that she usually takes issue with, she finds she doesn’t mind. It’s a worthwhile price to pay for the pleasure of Marcus’ company and the quiet beauty of their surroundings and the sense of peace that’s slowly starting to radiate through her.

After a while he shifts with evident reluctance, withdrawing from around her and, after extracting his arm from the tangle of blankets around them with difficulty, begins to dig around in some of the bags he’s brought with him that she hasn’t really paid much attention to, being entirely too focused on him and their surroundings. Watching him curiously but quietly, waiting to see what he’ll do she’s a little taken aback when, without warning or preamble, he presses a small, flat little boxes into her hands with a small smile and a soft, “Merry Christmas.”

She blinks at him. She’d almost forgotten that Christmas was approaching. The Winter weather had been the most preoccupying season about this time on her mind. It had never been a very big celebration on the Ark all things considered, just an excuse to be a little less frugal with the rations, give a few small, generally handmade gifts and be together with family.  

Tentatively, after looking up and meeting his eyes again, catching the nervous anticipation in them, she lowers her eyes to the box and carefully slits it open. Her eyes widen at what she finds inside, small, handmade necklace on a fine silver chain, a tiny, basic model of the Ark, about the size of her thumb nail looped carefully through it.

Glancing up at Marcus her speechlessness seems to catch him a little off guard as he begins over talking, the way he does when he’s not quite sure of himself, “Raven helped me with it, she said she was sure you would like it but-“

“I do.” She says quickly, stopping him mid-flow, “I do, it’s, it’s beautiful, Marcus.” She murmurs, a soft smile spreading across her face and a lump forming in her throat for reasons that she can’t quite explain, “Thank you.”

Smiling cautiously himself he stretches forwards and lifts it out of its box then gestures towards her, “May I?” She nods and shifts around so that her back is to him. A moment later she feels him gently sweep aside her hair and then the brush of his soft, hot skin, a now familiar sensation to her, on the back of her neck as he puts it on for her.

Once it’s in place she places two fingers over it, lightly touching the cold metal and examining it delicately between her fingers. Smiling she turns back to Marcus and hugs him tightly, rubbing noses with him and murmuring another soft thank you to him.

Insisting that it was nothing but looking pleased with himself all the same he starts to unpack the picnic that he’s brought for them as the sun begins to dip beneath the horizon in front of them. They eat and drink and talk and laugh and she can tell that he’s working hard to keep the conversation light and pleasant and to steer clear of the topics that have caused such a heavy weight to descend into the pit of her stomach over the past few months.

They’ve had rather a lot of the moonshine Marcus managed to coax out of Raven for this, rather more than they maybe should have done, when she feels the first faint disturbance on the surface of her skin. Blinking in surprise she starts and looks around at Marcus to see if he’s noticed as well. She can tell straight away by the expression on his face that he has.

Lowering the bottle of moonshine had been about to use to top up their cups he, like her, raises his eyes and glances skyward. Above them a white blanket of clouds lies over their heads, shrouding them and making her feel a little as though she’s inside a giant ball of soft, fluffy white cotton wool.

Opening her mouth she’s about to ask him what he thinks it is. The things she’s felt falling against her skin were too light, too airy and too small to be raindrops but she can’t think what...Then her eyes manage to pick one out a few feet away from her. A fat, pure white flake of snow. She allows the joyous exclamation out of her lips without thinking about it and turns to Marcus, eyes shining with excitement, “I think it’s snowing.” She tells him, feeling suddenly a child again.  

He nods, seemingly having come to the same conclusion but he doesn’t look nearly as happy about it. He starts hastily rummaging around with their bags and the blankets trying to organise himself as she gets slowly to her feet and walks a little away from him, hands outstretched, trying to catch more of the soft flakes that are drifting down onto them from the heavens.

It begins getting heavier as the seconds drift past and it’s not long before it’s harder to avoid the snowflakes than it is to try and come into contact with them. Taking her by the hand, Marcus leads her under the cover of the nearby trees, trying to pull a few blankets over their heads to protect them the worst of what can only be described as a blizzard that’s begun to rage around them. Yelping in surprise, he tugs off his jacket and tries to shelter her properly with it, fussing and fretting but she draws away from him.

Laughter, brought on by the moonshine and the peaceful abandon of the last few hours she’s spent with him bubbles up through her chest and once she starts she can’t stop. This was what she wanted, to experience Earth and all of the wonders that they’d only ever read about, and dreamed about as children. She wants to forget that she’s a Chancellor, responsible for all of their people with so much upon her shoulders and so much responsibility that she never asked for for just a little while. She wants to feel free and alive and happy, she wants to be impulsive and a little childish and a little silly if only a moment where none but Marcus can see her.

Wriggling away from him she steps out right into the centre of the clearing, where none of the trees around them can possibly afford her any shelter at all and stands with her hands stretched out wide as the snow storm rages around her.

When she was younger, for a Christmas, Jake managed to fashion Clarke a small snow globe with a painted chess piece at its heart. Whenever she shook it snow would swirl up from the bass of the ball and cover the wooden horse. ‘Just like magic’ she had called it and she had laughed so hard every time she had shaken it in her small hands.

The memory brings an even broader smile to Abby’s face as she looks up towards the sky and thinks that now, she probably has quite a good idea of how the little horse must have felt. It’s as though they’ve been taken in the hands of some god who’s raining down these soft fat flakes upon them in a never ceasing torrent and she doesn’t want to cower beneath trees and blankets now, now she wants to experience this properly.

Turning around she catches Marcus by the hand and coaxes him out to join her, wanting him to experience this with her, wanting to share what she’s feeling, wanting to share this memory with him. It takes quite a lot of tugging to pull him out from his shelter and when she finally manages it, with one particularly sharp jerk of her arm, he crashes into her and sends her stumbling back a few paces, both of them, unsteady after consuming so much moonshine, nearly tumbling down into the light dusting of snow that’s already beginning to lie on the ground around their feet.

He manages to anchor and balance her enough to keep her on her feet however but it sparks off another little fit of giggles which causes him to smile and chuckle softly as well, though he’s watching her instead of the snow that’s tumbling around them.

Pausing a moment, the ghost of her last little burst of laughter still huffing through her chest she realises how close he is to her now. Their bodies are pressed up tightly together, in somehow a far more intimate position than they’ve adopted all evening spent huddled cosily under the blankets together. Heat rises between them and draws her in even closer to her, the warmth radiating from their skin sharply contrasting to the snow that’s falling thick and fast all around them.

When she looks up at him, her lips still slightly parted, she can see snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes. And for a collection of uncounted heartbeats there she doesn’t think she’s ever been as sure of anything as she is in that moment, of how much she wants the man that’s standing opposite her, smiling down at her and holding her in his arms.

But between the moonshine and the depth of her feelings she doesn’t think she could ever put it in to words. So she compromises. Standing up on her toes and tipping forwards against him, trusting him to catch her and sense her intentions and stop her from falling, she curls one hand behind his neck and draws him down to her and then she kisses him.

And it’s different to the kisses that they’ve shared before, not and rough and sensual, their lips barely crashing together for a brief span of hot, stolen breaths before their bodies are in motion and their being drawn away again, barely a taste to whet the appetite and nothing more.

This kiss lingers while the moment contracts, both seeming to take place in minutes while lasting an eternity. She draws him in closer and closer, wanting more of him, wanting more of this. The hot, acrid taste of moonshine is on his tongue when her lips part for it, without ever needing her to specifically instruct them to do so. Her body responds on instinct, responds to the faint, almost imperceptible movements of his against her, it knows him, it trusts him, it wants him just as badly as she does right now and it feels so good.

It feels so good not to think, not to debate every tiny point from every possible angle. It feels good just to _do,_ just to be, just to live in this moment that’s forming around them, to actually have the freedom to create moments like this without thinking through every possible consequence until she wants to scream. It feels good to completely relinquish control to her base instincts and to the man who’s arms are around her, holding her close, who’s hands are settling at the base of her spine and in her thick hair.

She trusts him, she trusts him implicitly, she would comfortably place her life and everything that entails in his hands and know that he won’t drop her or hold her so hard that she’s crushed. He knows her. He knows what she wants right now, he knows what she needs and he gives it to her and she takes it, takes it all inside her and holds it there and revels in the feeling it inspires there.

When they finally break apart, both breathing hard, he softly brushes back her hair and lightly kisses her nose, making her blink at first in surprise and then smile and laugh again. Both of them are breathing hard now, his arms are wrapped so tightly around her that she doesn’t think he’s ever going to let her go again; and she doesn’t think that she ever wants him to.

Pressing her forehead against his she holds him close as the snow continues to tumble down around them, melting on their flushed skin, their entwined bodies causing a small disturbance in the way it falls upon their clearing.

*****

 


End file.
